


Always Outnumbered, Never Outgunned

by Megan



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Come Shot, Crying, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Gang Rape, Gun Kink, Gunplay, Hair Kink, Hair-pulling, Hazing, Humiliation, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Nonconathon Treat, Pre-Canon, Rape, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Harassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 18:50:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11492502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megan/pseuds/Megan
Summary: Welcome to the Cleansers, Private Västerström.





	Always Outnumbered, Never Outgunned

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tentaclekitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tentaclekitten/gifts).



> The title is from a Prodigy album, because I couldn't not.

The new recruit is the best-looking bit of cannon fodder they've had in pretty much ever, Erik has to give him that. Emil Västerström might have mediocre test scores and a barely-passing showing from basic training, but he's got glimmering blond hair flirting with the very edge of regulation length, a complexion nobody his age deserves, and just enough baby fat left on him to soften him up around the edges.

They haven't really hazed the fresh meat properly in ages, not since Elsa had been put in charge of the squad. She's a total hardass about that kind of thing-- she'd put them all on a punishment detail just for talking about it. But she's off coordinating a supply drop for their next expedition, which means they can introduce their improbably pretty, irritatingly mediocre new recruit to the squad in a way they'll all appreciate.

Gustav lets out a wolf-whistle when Västerström leans down to pick up a crate of grenades, and he fumbles and almost drops it.

"Don't blow yourself up, kid." Isak gives them both a dirty look, as if to say _not while he's handling the explosives_. Which is stupid-- they aren't live. He could shove one of them up the new kid's ass, that's how safe they are.

Fuck, that's a good thought. With those grades in training, he might not know they're not live. It would be a lesson in respecting the ordnance for him and some serious entertainment for everyone else.

"We've got another job for you when you're done over there, Västerström," Gustav calls out. He's already pulling the magazine out of his gun.

"You want in?" Erik asks Astrid, who's counting the fuel canisters.

"Nope," she says, not even looking up from her clipboard. "Don't mess him up too much; I'm not covering for you if Elsa notices when she gets back."

"Don't worry, we'll keep him pretty enough to put on a poster. Everywhere she would see, anyway." Gustav checks the chamber for bullets. He always has the best gun discipline on the team. "I make no guarantees about that ass when I'm done with it."

"She's supposed to be gone for a week, so as long as we don't actually hurt him she'll never know." Isak sounds like he's wavering. "You think he's any good at sucking dick?"

Västerström drops another box, and there's a choked-off sound. Oh, he can hear them. _Good._

"Come on, kid, it's time we welcomed you to the team." Gustav holsters his empty gun. "Decide whether you're staying or going, Astrid."

"See you tomorrow." She puts her clipboard down and leaves with a wave. At least she's the kind of no fun who looks the other way-- she's all right.

All three of them fall into lockstep, marching to the back of the warehouse before he can get any ideas about leaving. Nobody else is going to be in today; everyone knows that Sven's and Birgitta's squads wait until the last possible day to check on their supplies.

Västerström is picking up the canisters rolling on the floor, but this time he's on his knees instead of bent over. That's a good look for him, too, his cheeks flushed bright red and his lip wet and swollen as if he's been biting it.

"Don't worry about those. One of us will get them later, make sure no one writes you up for dropping them." Isak's smooth as a snake. Erik is never sure whether to be jealous of that or respect it. "Look, Emil-- we're on a first-name basis, right?"

Västerström-- Emil-- just gapes at him like some kind of very attractive fish, like he can't reconcile the sudden friendliness with what he's just overheard.

"I... yes?" He doesn't sound at all sure. "We are now?"

"That's the spirit." Isak reaches down as if to clap Emil on the shoulder, but changes trajectory at the last second. His hand lands on the back of Emil's neck instead, heavy enough to startle him into dropping the canister in his hands.

It's a damn good thing none of this ordnance is live yet.

"A good Cleanser doesn't let something like that rattle him." Gustav just looks at him with that hunter's stare of his. "You gonna drop a live one the first time a troll jumps out at you and get us all killed?"

"No!" He flinches. "I wouldn't-- I'm not--"

"It's okay. Nobody knows everything their first day. That's the whole point of training." Isak digs his fingers in. Erik doesn't complain; it's not like Emil's long hair won't cover up bruises that high up on the back of his neck.

"Come on, I know you heard us. You know we aren't going to hurt you-- Elsa would have all of our asses for it." Erik's sick of waiting, and if Emil hadn't run while Astrid was still in the room then he's probably not going to. He leans down and hooks his fingers in Emil's collar. "Just think of it as a welcome to the team. A trust exercise before we start handling live explosives together."

Emil takes a deep breath, but doesn't say anything when Isak pulls him up to his feet by the scruff of his neck. Or when Erik unzips his jacket and Isak slips it off his shoulders and folds it neatly over one of the crates.

"Don't worry, they won't even be able to give you a uniform violation when you walk out of here," he promises. "Now help us out and take off your boots."

Emil hesitates. He'd definitely bitten his lip before; he's doing it again now.

"If you _want_ to walk out of here with your clothes wrinkled and miss out on a day of leave before we ship out, be my guest." That does get a reaction from him, though whether it's to mussing his outfit or missing out on leave, Erik can't say.

He bends over and starts unlacing his boots.

"I knew you'd work out." More like Gustav has been hoping the new kid would work out since he'd first seen that ass. Which he slaps as soon as Emil is good and bent over.

Emil whips right back upright, hair swinging and cheeks burning even brighter red than before.

"Finish what you started, private." Isak gestures down to the unlaced boots. "It would be a shame if you scuffed them and failed inspection."

"No," he says, of all the times for him to finally grow a spine. He reaches for his coat with a shaking hand, but his voice doesn't waver. He sounds like a spoiled fucking brat. "Don't touch me. How _dare_ you--"

What they dare is lost when Gustav shoves the gun in his mouth. His pretty eyes get wider as he realizes what he's been gagged with, hand frozen just above his folded coat.

Maybe he should have paid more attention during range training; then he might have recognized the sound of Gustav taking out the magazine and opening the chamber to look for a bullet. Then he would know that the gun isn't loaded. 

Fuck, he's gorgeous like that, wild-eyed with his hair in his face and his lips wrapped around the black metal barrel.

"I thought your last name sounded familiar, but I didn't remember why until you started talking like that." Gustav holds the pistol steady. Emil makes a soft, terrified sound. "Your parents had money, up in Östersund. No wonder you think you can order us around like that."

"He's one of _those_ Västerströms?" Isak suddenly sounds interested. "Is it true that to keep the house, you had to--"

Erik punches him in the shoulder. Not hard, just enough to warn him that there are some things you just don't bring up.

"Leave his family out of this. Weren't you just talking about how he's part of the team now?" Erik kneels down and finishes unlacing Emil's boots himself, since it's not like he's going to move with the gun in his mouth. "Step out of these; I'm not pulling them off you."

He does, toeing them off without jostling the gun. Maybe the kid has some potential, after all. At least he can balance.

"Are you going to be a team player if I take this out?" Gustav asks. He sounds like he really doesn't want Emil to be a team player.

The sound Emil makes is probably an affirmative, and Gustav sighs and slides the gun back out of his mouth.

"That's almost a shame. It was a good look for you." He nudges the slick muzzle up against Emil's cheek, which earns him a faint whimper. "Now keep going. You've got a lot to take off, and we don't have a lot of patience."

Emil's hands shake as he unbuttons his shirt, but he manages not to send any buttons flying. He does fumble his belt buckle, over and over until Erik suspects that it might be on purpose.

So he leans down and unbuckles it himself, sliding it out of the belt loops slowly. If he takes more time than he needs to, well, the kid looks so pretty cringing like that.

"This, too." Erik pats him on his belly to indicate the undershirt. Fuck, he feels nice there, too: fit but a little soft on top, just like the rest of him.

Emil nods and peels off his undershirt, handing it off to Isak when he was done. His hair falls right back into place, which is the closest thing to actual magic Erik has ever seen. Those Norwegian hippies who think Freyja gives them powers should be using him as a demonstration.

"At least he can follow orders." Gustav runs the gun down the side of Emil's face and stops when the muzzle is nestled under his ear. "You're almost there."

If Erik were the one holding the gun, he'd pull the trigger. Which would get him a lecture about trigger discipline from Gustav-- he can hear it already, _yes, even when you know the gun is empty!_ \-- so maybe it's better he isn't.

But fuck, imagining the kid tensing up in that one terrified instant between the click of the trigger and when he realizes he still has a brain is great. He'd be so grateful to be alive that he'd fall all over himself to do whatever they wanted.

When he's finally naked, Emil looks frailer than he should. He's not small-- short, yes, but his frame is wide enough that he looks more substantial when he's dressed. Maybe it's his complexion, blue veins showing through the thin skin at his joints. Maybe it's the fact that he's shivering, eyes closed as he probably tries not to think about the gun.

"How long do we have until inspection?" Isak asks, because he's an idiot who never remembers to wear a watch.

"About an hour." Gustav sounds disappointed. "I wish we'd started an hour ago-- now we won't have enough time to fuck him."

"It's fine. You want him limping to inspection when we promised he'd pass it?" Isak stands behind Emil. It's hard to see, but judging by the strangled sound he makes, Isak has just grabbed his ass. " _Shit_ , that's nice, though. Let's get him on his hands and knees."

He bends over nicely, though who knows whether that's what his mother gave him or the gun at the base of his skull urging him to be graceful. Once he's on all fours, face mostly hidden by his long hair, Isak pushes his way to the front of the group. Greedy asshole.

"I just need to get wet, it'll only take a minutes," he promises.

"No, because it's going to turn out like it always does. You swear up and down you won't fuck him, then you'll only fuck him a _little_ , then next thing we know your whole dick is in there." Erik fumbles through his pocket until he finds the tube he's looking for. He tosses it at Isak. "You're the one who doesn't want him limping out there, so be careful."

Isak might be better at talking them down and Guatav is definitely better at keeping them there, but Erik's the one who always comes prepared.

Emil whimpers and scrambles away, gun or no gun. Erik almost can't blame him-- he's probably been assuming that all he'll have to do is blow them. 

Gustav grabs him by the hair and drags him back into place.

"No, you can't do this to _mmmph!_ " Once again, the gun barrel stops his whining efficiently and beautifully. This time Gustav slides it in and out like it's a dick, and Emil freezes again.

"Come on, Emil, show us how much you want to be part of the team. Give my gun a good time, prove you deserve to have a cock in there instead." He doesn't let go of Emil's hair, instead using it to yank his head down. The barrel is in as far as it will go, his lips brushing the trigger guard.

Isak already has his fly open, one hand slicking his cock and the other holding onto Emil's hip. 

Erik's sick of waiting, so he unzips his own fly. The gun looks good right where it is, but that doesn't mean he can't slap Emil across the face with his dick, smear a little precome in that beautiful hair. Emil whimpers again, muffled by the gun. 

"I think he's asking for your cock in his mouth." Isak has finished slicking himself up and is rutting up between his ass cheeks. 

"I think you're right." Gustav slides the barrel out of Emil's bruised mouth and presses the muzzle against that soft spot behind his ear again. "He's been a good sport about this, so let's give him what he wants." 

Emil's mouth is warm and wet and yielding, at least until Erik gets further in than the end of the pistol could. Then he chokes a little, but doesn't fight. He doesn't even fight when Isak does exactly what Erik had known he would do and pushes in the tip of his cock. 

He's not fighting, but he's crying. How does he think he'll make it through a whole tour of torching things that scream for help when he starts bawling the first time someone slips him a little dick? 

"He even _cries_ pretty," Gustav says, rapt. 

It doesn't take long for Erik to come, and he'd be disappointed that it's dull, prefunctory as orgasms go, except that what Emil lacks in enthusiasm he makes up for in lucky ineptitude. He tries to pull back at the first taste of come on his tongue, but with Gustav's hand in his hair he only makes it far enough to take it in the face instead of in his mouth. 

Some of it does drip from his mouth, but most of it has spattered across his cheek and chin. A little bit is in his hair. 

Gustav lets go of him, but keeps the gun nestled up against his skull. 

"Shit, kid, what don't you look good doing?" He asks hoarsely as he gags Emil with his own cock. He's just in time, because Isak chooses that exact moment to slap his ass. Emil doesn't scream, exactly, but the noise he makes when he clenches around Isak would definitely have been audible outside if he didn't have a throat full of dick. "You think he has enough time to wash his hair?" 

"No, so don't jack off in it." Erik looks at his watch. "You'd both better hurry." 

Instead of answering, Isak smacks Emil's ass hard enough to make an audible slapping noise. Emil lets out a garbled shriek around Gustav's cock, tensing up as Isak thrusts him forward hard. 

" _Fuck!_ " Gustav hands the gun off to Erik, and as soon as his hand is free he fists both of them in Emil's hair. "Come on, pretty boy, the more you open up the faster I get off." 

He thrusts in harder and Emil chokes, the wet, desperate sound of his breath failing him audible even from where Erik stands. Emil tries to pull away like he had when Erik had come, so Erik kneels down and presses the muzzle-- still wet from Emil's mouth-- against his temple. 

"Don't fuck up when you're so close to the end," Erik murmurs. Emil stops moving as soon as metal touches his skin, his mouth going as slack as it had been around Erik. 

He almost regrets coming first, since now all he can do is watch Gustav and Isak push and pull Emil between them. And stroke the gun down Emil's face, down the thin skin of his eyelid and onto his cheek. Kid's got great cheekbones, the kind that will be even better after a tour on field rations takes off that last bit of baby fat on his face. 

Even focused on the gun pressed to Emil's face and the panicky little sounds he tries to make because of it, Erik can tell when Isak comes. He's not loud about it, but _Emil_ is. His eyes snap open wide and if he hadn't been gagged so thoroughly he would be wailing. 

Huh, of all the things to set him off... then again, he'd fallen into line pretty fucking quickly once they'd brought up looking pretty for the inspection line. 

"How are you going to handle troll guts in your hair if you freak out about a little bit of come?" Erik looks him right in the eyes, and his face flushes red again as he shuts them again. He's gonna have to lose that tendency to blush if he ever wants anyone to take him seriously. 

"Shit, that was good." Isak steps back and zips himself back up. "Hurry it up, I want to clean up before inspection." 

"If you'd kept your dick out of his ass like you were supposed to, you wouldn't need it." Gustav thrusts again once, twice, and then he pulls out and comes all over Emil's face. 

It's not accidental and half in his mouth like Erik had done-- no, this time Emil's nose and cheek and eyelid are striped with come. His eyelashes are going to be glued together if he doesn't wash it out before it dries, and the thought of prissy Private Västerström picking dried jizz out of his eyelashes is simultaneously amazing and disgusting. 

Emil stays where he is for a moment, panting for breath and flushed pink all the way down to his chest. His bruised mouth hangs open, a smear of white still next to his mouth, and there's no way every soldier in the barracks isn't going to know he's been sucking cock. 

He finally stumbles back up onto his knees, scrubbing a hand over his eye so he can open it. That happens just in time for him to see Gustav loading the clip back into his pistol. 

"You--" his voice comes out hoarse. 

"What, this? It was never loaded, kid." Gustav smiles at him. It doesn't reach his eyes. "We were just having a little fun. I thought you knew." 

Emil is on his feet and stumbling towards his neatly-folded clothes almost as soon as Gustav says _never loaded_. He yanks his pants and jacket back on, but doesn't bother with the rest before he picks up his boots and makes for the side door as fast as he can limp there. 

There's a bathroom in that hallway, and no one's likely to be there when they're the only ones in the armory. Good, that means he's getting rid of the evidence and keeping his mouth shut. 

"Don't be late for inspection," Isak calls out, just before the door slams closed behind Emil. 


End file.
